


Shadowhunter Energy

by Story_geek



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, I promised myself I would never apologize for my writing but that is really it., M/M, Multi-tasking Magnus, Supportive Alec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 01:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11817900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Story_geek/pseuds/Story_geek
Summary: Alec returns to the loft after a late-night mission, expecting Magnus to be long asleep, but he spies blue light coming from under the door of his boyfriend's study.





	Shadowhunter Energy

Alec let himself into the loft slowly, as quietly as he could. When he’d left for the Institute that morning he knew Magnus had a full slate of clients; midnight had long since come and gone so he surely would have turned in by now.

Sure enough, as he deposited his bow and quiver on the hook by the door the loft was black and silent, save for the traffic lights and noises from the windows. New York was truly a city that never slept and the streetlights below cast irregular flickering shadows throughout the space. As Alec tiptoed to the couch to remove his boots he was grateful for his rune enabling night vision; Magnus was a light sleeper and Alec had woken him many times turning on the light in the hall or kitchen. There had followed a transition period of stubbed toes and expletives in the dark, but runes and a familiarity with the terrain had taken care of the problem.

Alec himself should have been home long before, but their mission tonight had led them down a seemingly never-ending trail of demon nests. Alec rolled his neck and shoulders, letting out an audible sigh as a series of pops released the tightness in his spine. Bed sounded great to his muscles right now, but his brain was still coming down from mission-adrenaline. 

Turning the corner of the hall, Alec froze when he saw the soft bursts of blue light flashing from under the door to Magnus’ office. Drawing nearer, he noticed that the door was actually ajar. He stilled, listening, but no voices so…no clients? He tapped gently on the door, nudging it open slowly because he was not so foolhardy as to surprise anyone in the midst of performing magic.

Alec slid cautiously into the room. “Magnus…?”

The warlock was at his desk, head on hand, nose buried in an ancient tome. Ah, translations, and by the yellow of the pages probably an ancient demonic dialect. No wonder the furrowed brow. Before he could say anything more, Magnus held up a bejeweled finger. Alec waited.

Eyes glued the faded calligraphy, the warlock gave a soft hum. “I portaled the ambassador and his entourage back to Prague an hour ago, but I just…have to…” Absentmindedly, the warlock stretched out his other had over the cauldron sitting on a stand beside his desk, turning his finger in circles in the air. A spiral of blue magic spun out from his manicured fingertips toward the cauldron which promptly started bubbling.

So. Ancient translations AND potions. Magnus was multi-tasking which meant it could be hours. Alec left the doorway and continued to their bedroom, confident that he would at least have time for a shower to wash the ichor out of his hair.

The shower relaxed him, but he still wasn’t sleepy; what he really craved was company, so Alec returned to the office, now clean and comfortable in his ratty sweats and – what else? – black t-shirt. He brought the book from his bedside table. Some people didn’t think H. P. Lovecraft was appropriate bedtime reading, but what did they know? 

Magnus sat motionless right where Alec left him, except for the hand-magic thing that was keeping the cauldron at a simmer. The warlock was still in the shirtsleeves and vest Alec had seen him in at breakfast, so obviously he hadn’t taken any break after his last client, that ambassador from…where was it? Alec wondered if he’d even eaten anything. The thick Persian carpet made it easy for Alec to move silently into the room, careful not to break Magnus’ concentration on the demonic text. The Shadowhunter settled himself on the soft carpet beside the warlock’s chair, leaning back against the oak desk. He opened his book and rested his head against the drawer so that light fell on the pages. His free hand sought out Magnus’ ankle, clothed in striped socks that belied the somberness of his business attire. Usually his shoes would be off the minute the last client was out the door…or portal. There must be a deadline involved.

Minutes passed with no sound but the bubbling of the potion and the slow, synchronized breathing of warlock & Nephilim. Magnus’ fingers drawing magical circles in the air mimicked by the lazy circles of Alec’s thumb on Magnus’ ankle, both reading.

The ping of Magnus’ phone startled both men from their trance. With a growl, Magnus grabbed his phone off the desktop. He was brief and to the point.  
“If your house is burning, call the fire department! Do you even know what time it is?!”

Without removing his eyes from his book, Alec raised an eyebrow. Demonic texts always put Magnus in a foul mood. Alec wouldn’t trade places with the caller for anything.  
“I don’t care what side of the date line you’re on, you’re the one who requires my services and I happen to have a life!”

Alec couldn’t hear the words on the other end, but the tone was bombastic. Obviously the other party had no sense of self-preservation. There was no way this was going to end well.

Magnus stood from the desk abruptly and Alec instinctively retracted his limbs, minimizing his footprint so Magnus wouldn’t trip over his mile-long legs. But Magnus merely leaned over the cauldron, sniffing.

“The earliest I can get it to you is late tomorrow morning…” There was more bluster from the phone, but evidently Magnus had had enough. “…you know what? Fine! I’ll send it as soon as it’s ready but it’s going to cost you…and next time your personal life explodes around your ears, I suggest you call Los Angeles!” As the phone met the hard surface of the desk, Alec was sure he heard the distinct crack of glass. He winced but remained still. Always a bad idea to interfere with a warlock who had lost his temper. He would wait until Magnus had unwound on his own before offering pick up the pieces, physically and mentally.

But Magnus’ anger seemed to wilt along with his body as he collapsed back into his chair. Alec hazarded a glance then, but Magnus was already on the move again, rummaging in his desk drawers, pulling out a vial, stopper, sealing wax, parchment & quill. Alec recognized the signs; this was the home stretch, the final burst of energy before the finish. It wouldn’t be long now. Alec returned to his book while Magnus ladled the potion into the vial, corked it and sealed it with the wax. He then hastily scrawled out instructions, muttering to himself all the while, and with a last scrutinizing shake of the mixture, folded the parchment around the vial and lay it on his desk in preparation for sending it off via fire message. Only when he snapped his fingers, nothing happened. Not a spark. Nada.

“Son of a bitch. Are you shitting me?” There was no anger in the warlock’s voice. Honestly, if he didn’t have energy for magic, he most certainly didn’t have the energy for anger or frustration, or even incredulity. His head fell forward on to his palm as he leaned on the desktop, his other hand falling to his lap in failure.

Quietly, softly, Alec lifted his free hand toward the hand in Magnus’ lap, his fingers crawling gently into his palm, not squeezing, or even clasping, just offering. Slowly Magnus came back to life, intertwining their fingers. Alec felt the familiar tingle of the warlock’s magic race up his arm and closed his eyes, bracing himself, but there was no pain. Magnus raised his head from his palm, moving his hand over the parcel and snapped his fingers. It was gone in an instant, like flash paper. The tingle in Alec’s arm settled into a faint hum of magic where his hand lay tangled with the warlock’s. Magnus leaned back in his chair, but his grasp of Alec’s hand remained firm.

“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus voice, liquid as always, drifted down to where Alec sat on the floor. “What would I do without you?”

Alec closed his book with a snap, laying it beside him on the floor. He rose to his feet, bringing Magnus up with him to enfold him in his long arms. They stood there, breathing each other in, needing no words. 

“Come on now, bed.” Alec pressed a kiss to Magnus’ brow, sighing as he made to pull away, but the warlock’s body and arms remained glued to and around him. “Magnus?”

A hum rose from where Magnus’ face was buried in Alec’s shoulder. “mmm…Carry me?”

Alec laughed at that. “You’re an ass.” 

“And you love it.”

“I do.”


End file.
